


Shake it Loose Together

by ts_smelliot



Category: Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers continued, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 19:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ts_smelliot/pseuds/ts_smelliot
Summary: So, they don’t do the tourist stuff the next morning. Richard tries, he really does, doesn’t want to push Taron too far too fast, so he offers. Even flips through the little complimentary guide book that’s resting by the phone, suggesting different activities.Taron lets him go on for a few minutes, indulges him as he’s showering and brushing his teeth.Finally, he shuts Richard up.“Dickie,” he says, stepping out of the bathroom and looking Richard full in the face. “Last night, I was promised you’d get your dick in me. I’m not waiting any longer, you get me?”





	Shake it Loose Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lizzen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/gifts), [th_esaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/th_esaurus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [we weren't just pretend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19360303) by [Lizzen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen), [th_esaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/th_esaurus/pseuds/th_esaurus). 



> So I read Lizzen and th_esaurus’ absolutely perfect "we weren't just pretend" and it made so many references to Richard getting his dick in Taron without actually getting Richard's dick in Taron that my thirst took over and I ended up with this lil sequel. You can probably read this as a standalone if you're just hunting for some PWP, but seriously. Just go read the original story, it’s a fucking delight.

So, they don’t do the tourist stuff the next morning. Richard tries, he really does, doesn’t want to push Taron too far too fast, so he offers. Even flips through the little complimentary guide book that’s resting by the phone, suggesting different activities he thinks Taron might like. He’s been to Paris lots, but he know Taron hasn’t. He wants Taron to make the most of this trip.

Taron lets him go on for a few minutes, indulges him as he’s showering and brushing his teeth.

Finally, he shuts Richard up.

“Dickie,” he says, stepping out of the bathroom and looking Richard full in the face. “Last night, I was promised you’d get your dick in me. I’m not waiting any longer, you get me?” He saunters over to where Richard’s sat on the bed, shaking the towel from his hips before he seats himself, fully naked and apparently perfectly comfortable, on Richard’s lap.

“T,” Richard’s voice cracks, and he swallows. Tries again. “There’s no rush, you know. We don’t have to—"

Taron lets out a frustrated little snort, rolling his eyes.

“I know we don’t have to. Have I ever given you any indication that I would do this if I didn’t want to?” he asks. He quirks a smile at Richard then, but his eyes are sharp, his anger from yesterday carrying over.

Richard just shakes his head, mute.

“Right,” Taron sounds out, like he’s talking to a child. “So then trust me.”

Richard closes his eyes. He didn’t mean to—

“Of course,” he says, pulling Taron in closer and kissing him. “I’m sorry, I know, of course,” and he is, he’s so sorry, such a fucking wanker, and he’s peppering tiny little kisses all over Taron’s face.

“Good,” Taron grins, forgiving him and forgetting it in an instant, and he starts pulling at the collar of Richard’s shirt. “Clothes off then!” he orders cheerfully.

Richard busies himself with his clothes and Taron crawls off his lap to make it easier, sliding to the centre of the bed. When Richard emerges from his shirt he sees him there: sprawled out on his back, naked, and completely at home, one knee bent and a hand on his hard cock as he watches Richard strip.

“Jesus, T,” Richard breathes. He can’t help it. Taron looks so good like this, so totally self-possessed and comfortable in his skin. He swipes the lube from where they left it on the nightstand, digs around in the drawers for a condom, not willing to make the same mistake twice by asking if Taron’s really sure first, and makes his way on his bare knees over to him.

“Hi,” Taron says, beaming, once Richard is leaning over him with a hand on either side of his shoulders.

“Hi, love.” Richard can hear how fond he sounds, couldn’t help it even if he wanted to.

Taron wiggles and smiles shyly up at him. “So shall we get on with it?”

“In a sec,” Richard murmurs. He leans down slowly, bracketing Taron’s face with his hands, and kisses him soft and slow, letting himself explore Taron’s mouth fully in the light of day. Taron leans into it eagerly, opening his lips for Richard’s tongue, and humming into the kiss, but eventually he starts to squirm impatiently.

“Shh,” Richard soothes, laughing just a little, as he breaks away and slides down Taron’s body.

“If I have to trust you to know what you want, then you have to trust me to make this really fucking good for you,” he says as he noses against Taron’s cock. He laps up a drop of precome from the tip and reaches for the lube, holding Taron’s eyes the whole time.

Taron breathes out shakily. “Okay,” he agrees, and lets his head fall back against the bed as Richard starts to trace a single slick finger around his hole.

Richard takes his time, massaging gently at the ring of muscle with his thumb, kneading at the soft, tender skin directly below Taron’s balls with his knuckle, and finally pushes in slowly with one finger, then two, fucking in faster and deeper as Taron’s body opens up for him.

Taron doesn’t say a thing, just breathes heavily through it all with a hand gripped tight in Richard’s hair.

“You ready,” Richard asks finally, and Taron nods.

“Do it,” he breathes, and Richard takes him at his word. He leans back only as far as needs to roll the condom on, to drizzle some lube over his cock, and then he’s pressing back in against Taron, kissing him as he lines up.

Taron’s body resists at first, doesn’t want to permit the intrusion, and Taron gives a little grunt of discomfort.

“Relax sweetheart,” Richard mumbles into Taron’s mouth, skating his fingers gently through Taron’s hair, and Taron takes a deep breath, blows it out slowly through his mouth. And that’s it. Richard feels it the moment Taron starts to give. He slides easily into Taron’s plush heat, pushing in gently until their hips are pressed flush. It’s overwhelming, and Richard has to close his eyes for a moment.

When he opens them, Taron is staring at him and breathing hard, eyes wide, mouth agape, a bright flush high on his cheeks. He looks stunned.

“Alright?” Richard asks, and Taron nods frantically.

“Gonna move now,” Richard rumbles, and Taron opens his legs wider, inviting it. Richard starts to move in earnest then, in and out, finding a pace that works for them both, and Taron’s not quiet anymore. He’s running his hands over Richard’s sides, grabbing at his ass, his biceps, his shoulders, gasping and cursing in sharp little bursts. Richard starts to lose himself in the tide of it all, rocking faster and faster as Taron eggs him on.

Last night was all playful build up, two friends crossing a threshold; today it’s hard and unchecked. Now that he’s allowed to want Taron he doesn’t know how to stop. It’s a flood that keeps rising, a wave that crests over Richard and drags him under over and over each time Taron does something particularly delicious, like bite at the hinge of Richard’s jaw, or keen as Richard pulls back only to hum contentedly when he drives deep back into him.

He wasn’t expecting Taron to take it like this.

Richard pulls out and flips Taron over onto his stomach, doesn’t allow him a moment to catch his breath before he’s pushing back in and Taron’s still just gagging for it, moaning and arching to get Richard’s cock back inside him as deep as he can.

“That feel good, love?” Richard rasps. “Doesn’t hurt?” and he can hear how slurred his voice is becoming with exhaustion and arousal, his vowels rounding and thickening.

Taron grunts. “Nah,” he pants, “‘s good, ‘s so fucking good, fuck—” and Richard gives a particularly strong thrust, jolting him up the bed.

He pulls out then, and just looks, kneeling between Taron’s spread legs, holding the meat of his ass apart with both hands.

“Taron,” he murmurs, helpless, as he stares at Taron’s hole stretched wide open, rim red and puffy from his cock. He wants this to change Taron, wants it to render him incapable of ever forgetting the feeling of Richard’s dick buried deep in his ass.

Taron whines. “What’re you doing back there?” he complains, wiggling his ass and turning to scowl at him. “Get back inside me, you twat.”

Richard shakes his head at himself, trying to mask the embarrassing intensity of the look he was just burning into Taron. He’s pretty sure Taron saw it anyway. He’s pretty sure Taron liked it.

“Just looking for something,” he drawls.

“What, fucking Narnia?”

And then Richard is shifting Taron’s hips, tilting them up and towards himself and muttering, “you’ll see,” darkly as he aims for his prostate.

He knows he’s struck it when Taron gives a breathy, high-pitched gasp, legs jerking, and demands, “Holy God, do that again.”

So Richard does, keeps Taron’s hips held in place under his hands as he sets a rapid pace, bouncing just right to keep ripping soft, desperate little noises out of Taron’s throat.

“That’s it, T,” he says, pleased. “Can you touch yourself for me now?”

“I’ll—oh, fuck—I’ll see what I can do,” Taron manages, a smart-ass to the end, and Richard loves him for it, loves that Taron is the bright, sunny foil to his heavy intensity even in this.

Taron’s got a hand underneath himself, probably not even enough space to properly jerk it, just adding some friction, but it doesn’t matter now. His body winds impossibly tight, his breath stopping, and then suddenly he tips over the edge, hips pulsing with their own rhythm, squeezing Richard’s cock tight as he sobs out into the pillow.

Richard has just a second to feel smug, but then his own hips jerk and his orgasm is rushing up to meet him and he’s stuttering hard again Taron, spilling out into the condom. He wishes he was emptying himself right into Taron’s ass.

But they have time. They have so much time.

He’s gonna show Taron absolutely everything.

Maybe he loses a few seconds, because he’s brought back to himself when Taron starts to squirm underneath him, saying something that’s completely lost into the pillows.

“What’s that, love?”

Taron turns his head a fraction, spitting hotel linens out of his mouth. “I said,” he huffs, “get off me, you heavy fucking wanker,” and he’s shining, laughing breathlessly, shaking Richard with the force of it.

Richard grinds himself down even heavier into Taron for a second, just to be an ass, and then he’s lifting himself off and sliding down next to him. He flops onto his back and turns his head to meet Taron’s gaze. Taron smiles at him, small and soft.

“Did you like that?” Richard asks. It’s not dirty talk, he genuinely needs to know.

Taron’s face splits into a grin, infectious as always, as he says, “Course. Fuckin’ loved it, Dickie.”

Richard’s breath eases then, and he pulls Taron in gently, presses his lips to Taron’s once, twice.

“Good,” he murmurs, stroking a finger over Taron’s cheek. He hopes he’s managed to say it, hopes he’s started to make up for all the time he fucked around feeling sorry for himself and missing Taron’s signs. But Taron is so generous: surely it’s enough.

Maybe tomorrow they’ll go to the Louvre. They’ll see the whole fucking thing. Taron can pose in front of the Eiffel Tower from far away and pretend he’s picking it up by the top. They’ll go to Montmartre maybe, walk next to the Seine. Anything Taron likes.

Richard’s in no rush.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic literally ever. Any and all kudos, comments, and extremely gentle constructive criticisms will be wrapped around me in a warm, nurturing cocoon until I emerge a fully-fledged smut peddler.


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